


Uh Oh! Robot Gets Kidnapped!

by aeki



Category: TwitchRP
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Kidnapping, M/M, Other, emotional torture, sweet ranbot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2019-10-08
Packaged: 2020-11-27 07:22:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,158
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20944520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aeki/pseuds/aeki
Summary: robot gets kidnapped, uh oh!!





	Uh Oh! Robot Gets Kidnapped!

**Author's Note:**

> im very gay and i love drama, also zofie is ooc a bit and im very sorry about that :(  
also i forgot to post this here SDFsdffsd  
tw: kidnapping, emotional torture, starvation but like in a robotic way if that makes sense?  
i didnt know robot's preferred pronouns were they/them when i wrote this F

“Take care Robot.” He had said with such a weird laugh. 

At the time, it hadn’t bothered him. He was tired, after all. Didn’t pick up the bitterness of the laugh. Maybe if he had he wouldn’t be in this situation. Maybe he’d be home snuggling with Randy. Maybe he’d be at Robot Retail listening to Norman’s crying in the boxes. Maybe he’d be at The Diamonds, losing every game of blackjack. Maybe maybe maybe too many maybes. 

There’s no maybes left in this situation, because it’s happening. And of course it’s happening at Robot Retail. He was just about to reply to Randy’s I love you when his phone is snatched out of his hands, and a gun pointed at his face.

“Hello Robot.” Ringworm says, like she’s just greeting him any other time of the week.

“Hey Zofie.” Robot replies, blinking a few times at the gun.

“Do me a favor and get into the rumpo without making a fuss, okay?” She makes a motion to the doors.

“Of course.” And he walks to the doors. And if he’s a bit slow, that’s because there’s a gun pointed at him, and not because he hopes beyond all else that someone shows up. Maybe Fingle coming to rob his store. Maybe Randy coming to say good night face to face. Maybe Dian coming by to buy up his fish. Heck, maybe even a Boy Banger to come by, just to see that he was being taken. But, once again, there’s too many maybes and nothing else. Nothing except him, Zofie, and the rumpo. No one else to help, no one to witness it, no one at all.  
He didn’t expect to feel this lonely with a gun pointed at him.

He’s sitting in the passenger seat, Zofie driving, of course, and pointing a gun at him below the dashboard. He’s quieter than a church mouse, watching the landscape past them and wondering why she didn’t blind fold him or wear a mask.

He doesn’t like the answer at all.

“Robot, you know this isn’t personal, right?” She asks, unwrapping a piece of gum to chew.

“I mean...isn’t it?” He asks back, running a hand over his leg.

“Well...technically? It’s about Randy and what he did to PJ.”

“Why am I being involved then?”

“Because you’re dating, and hurting you would be better than directly hurting him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah. Sorry Robot.”

It’s silent after the convo and they don’t speak again for the rest of the ride. Just the sound of the van, Zofie chewing gum, and the soft hum of his gears. It’s kinda relaxing and smoothing, even if a gun is still pointed at him. And he is curious what Zofie wants from him, but he knows he shouldn’t talk without being talked to first. It’d just end up with him getting hurt.

They’ve been driving for at least ten minutes when Zofie quickly pushes him down with her right hand, shushing him as he goes down to the floor, and squished as far as he could be under the dashboard.

“Say anything and I’ll kill you.” She whispers, rolling down her window. “Hey T.”

“Hey Zo. What are you up to?” 

And suddenly Robot is filled with hope, that hey, maybe T will see him on the floor, or somehow hear his gears. Maybe he’ll get in the rumpo and see him, send out a text, call someone, really anything at this point Robot would take. Just...anything that would get him out of this situation and back to his house where he can just watch the ocean for a few hours.

“Oh nothing much. Just up to something I’m going to regret.” She sounds so nonchalant, like she didn’t just nudge her gun onto Robot’s temple, and it makes the feeling of dread increase A Lot in his processor.

“Ha. When aren’t we doing something we’re going to regret?” T laughs softly. “I’m heading out, stay safe Zo, alright?”

“I’m always safe. You on the other hand…”

“Yeah yeah, well I’ll see ya. Have a good rest of the night.”

“Oh I will.” As she says it she pushes the gun harder on his head and causing him to close his eyes from the sensation. He really hopes T notices. Sees that Zofie is leaning a bit too far to the right. Notices that hey, why’s she doing that, and checks it out. Sees him cowering on the floor without Zofie noticing him, hopes he calls someone anyone to come to his rescue. 

But T doesn’t notice.

If he could cry, Robot thinks he would’ve done it the second T left. But thankfully he cannot. He’s a Robot after all. Robot’s don’t need to cry. They don’t feel after all. They don’t need to show complex emotions or anything like that. They just need to run fast, rob good, and hack best. And maybe this is his punishment. Maybe he’s being kidnapped because he stopped doing crime. 

It doesn’t take long for them to get to their destination after the quick meeting with T. It’s some nondescript building, just across from the Cluckin’ Bell Factory. Robot’s sure he’s passed it a thousand times and never really seen it. And that really doesn’t help with his emotions as he’s guided into the building and into a room.

The room is empty, just a single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling, and PJ standing in the center of it with his arms folded.

“Hey Rob Otte.” 

“Hi PJ.”

“So. How much did Kitten tell you?”

“Not much.”

“Good. I bet you’re confused about what you’re doing here, why the notorious Forgotten have kidnapped yo-”

“Wait, I thought Zofie kidnapped me.”

“Ye-yes she did, and she’s part of The Forgotten. I know, I know, the elusive Forgotten don’t really broadcast out our role in things, we like to be, more subtle. We are, after all, The Forgotten, for a reason. The more people don’t know of us, the better.”

“Oh...okay.”

“Besides that, I have been wrong. As have all of the Forgotten. I was stabbed, and shot at least three times, by The Hive at a BUSINESS meeting. And due to that we lost two of our members from fear of getting hurt as well. So, in retaliation, we’ve taken you.”

“Oh. For what reason?”

“We’re going to reprogram you, Rob Otte. Make you only listen to us and do as we say. You’re going to be our little...rat. You’re going to tell us everything about the Hive, and more specifically everything about Randy. And we’re going to wipe them off this fucking world with your information.”

“How...are you going to reprogram me?”

“We’ve got a plan.”

Turns out their plan revolved around hacking textbooks and a store-bought datapad with no real hackers around. Honestly, it was probably the exact way Fingle built him, but to try to reprogram him like that? After he’s already improved his programming for years? Nonsense.

They had been going for a good hour when Pj just lets out the loudest scream. He takes the datapad from Zofie and throws it at the wall, letting all his frustration out with the toss. He’s panting when he looks at Zofie.

“Really?” She asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yes. We obviously can’t do it! We have to fall back onto plan B.” He crosses his arms, grinding his teeth a bit.

“Aww...I don’t like that one. It takes so long…” Zofie frowns, pouting a bit.

“We either go with plan B or we kill ourselves because he won’t stay quiet about this.” He gestures towards Robot.

“Alright. Sorry about this Robot.” Zofie says, standing up from her spot on the floor, and pulling out a phone. She takes a picture of Robot, the flash blinding him briefly, and types something real quick before hitting enter.

“What…” Robot starts, before Zofie shushes him.

“I just messaged Randy your GPS and picture. He’ll come collect you, but we’ll be here and get the jump on him.” Zofie’s smile is threatening, as she slips the phone into her pocket.

“He won’t come.” Robot says quickly.

“If he doesn’t then he’s not a good boyfriend, is he? Besides we have plan C still.”

“Plan C?” He asks, his hand smoothing out a wrinkle on his pants.

“Yeah. Plan C. Dismantle and scrape you. Make a few bucks, yeah?” PJ answers, smiling at Zofie.

“Probably about five bucks. Not a lot, but hey, it’s something.”

Randy never shows up. Just as Robot had said. He knew what a trap was, he wasn’t some sort of dumbass. Well, he was, but not that big of a dumbass. And it’s fine. It’s fine. Robot’s glad he didn’t show up. Glad that he’s probably safe somewhere.

It’s okay.

PJ and Zofie leave him alone for a good twenty hours. In that room. He’s tried the door, locked and blockade obviously, and he’s tried looking for weak spots in the walls. He’s tried screaming for help, but he’s never really screamed before so no one would be able to hear him. Tried banging on the walls. Tried seeing if he could dig his way out. He’s tried everything in the book, and none of it’s working. And...and he’s.

And he’s afraid.

His processors are running on pure fear, because he’s in a dark room with barely any ventilation, and he’s going to power down here, isn’t he? He’s going to just shut off and maybe never come back online. He’s only ever thought about his death twice since he was manufactured, and the answer has always been that he’d never die. 

But, right now, alone in a dark room, death seems awful friendly for a bot such as himself.

Zofie stops by, sometime around the twenty-one hour mark. 

“Still no Randy. What a shame. Here, have a granola bar. Don’t want you powering down before he gets here.” Zofie throws him a granola bar. She’s blowing a gum bubble and scrolling through Robot’s phone. 

He’s slow to take the granola bar, afraid that Zofie was just going to take it from him, or hit him if he did. Even though she doesn’t he still eats it slowly, afraid she might get mad that he ate it so quickly. Fingle didn’t like him eating quickly after robberies, said it made him think Robot was mocking him.

The flash from his camera goes off, and he quickly looks up, slightly startled.

“Picture for Randy. Might give him more motivation to come get you, especially if you’re already fed. Less money to spend.” Zofie blows another bubble, walking out of the room while she texted something.

At around the thirty-five mark, he stops being afraid and starts being so terribly lonely. He misses looking at past messages between him and Randy. He misses texting updates to Jinkster. He misses the updates he’d get from Gertrude. And he just...he misses them. He misses all the pictures saved on his phone, misses his 9gag, and he misses making prank calls. He misses his friends.

And they miss him.

Zofie would know because Robot’s phone has blown up with over one-thousand messages within thirty-five hours, most of them asking where he was, and a few of them death threats for whoever took him. She was kinda surprised how many people found out Robot was kidnapped, but she was even more surprised about the pure amount of people texting the phone.

And extremely afraid. She had thought they’d be able to reprogram him and send him off into the world, not that they’d be holding him for longer for absolutely no reason. They had no reasoning to do so, and they were most likely going to get hunted down by the whole fucking city if they found out it was Them.

And...PJ’s plan on what to do to Robot was horrible. She didn’t want to help him with what he was planning to do, felt sick to her stomach just thinking about it. But she can’t say no to him.

Even if she hasn’t slept since kidnapping Robot. Even if she feels so much regret. Even if she doesn’t want to do this, no, god she can’t do this.

But she has to. For PJ.

At the forty-eight mark Zofie sends another picture of Robot. This time it’s of him laying on the floor, a glazed look over his eyes. Her message, ‘His batteries are running low. :(‘. She slides a granola bar over to him but doesn’t watch him take it.

At the fifty-five hour mark Robot eats the granola bar. He barely has the energy to chew it up.

He also eats the wrapper, hoping it’ll give him a little bit more energy.

Robot switches off his clock application around the fifty-six hour mark, hoping he could conserve some energy. Anything, really. He’d eat his bowtie if he could, and he’s already eaten all the pebbles on the ground. 

He’s weak. So very weak. Can’t even lift his head up, and trying to move his arms cause exhaustion to weep through him. And he can’t, he can’t do anything. If he powers down, he’s good as dead because his firewalls would be weakened. At least Zofie or PJ haven’t found that out yet. It was his only card left on the table, and he was keeping his hand over it for as long as he could.

Randy has been driving himself fucking crazy. He’s been chasing every single shadow he’s seen, and he’s gotten nowhere. Every trail that could’ve led him somewhere has turned into shit and he’s just fucking pissed. Who would dare, who would fucking dare kidnap Robot? Robot of Robot Retail, Robot of The Diamonds, his Robot? His, fucking, Robot.

And why? Why would they kidnap sweet, sweet Robot? The sweetest machine in all of Los Santos, beloved by all, and specifically loved by himself. Who would fucking dare.

He hasn’t slept since getting the text. Hasn’t stopped looking for all this time either. He’s talked with almost every single gang in the city, asking them if they’ve seen Robot and did they fucking kidnap him. He’s almost gotten shot at least ten times, but a little bullet wound isn’t going to stop him, baby. He’s already tried getting Robot’s scent from his store, hoping he could track him down, but Robot only smells like him so he kept ending back up at Robot Retail or one of their houses.

It’s been three days since Robot’s gone missing when he gets another message from the kidnapper.

A picture of Robot, laying on the ground. His eyes are almost closed, his hand resting in front of him, barely reaching a granola bar, and his hat is gone. The caption is what pisses him off the most.

‘He can barely move. Might end up turning off soon. :( ‘.

He throws his phone to the side, and begins beating on his steering wheel, letting out a loud scream, because FUCK. Fuck, fuck fuck fuck fuck! He can’t do shit to stop this. He can’t find his Robot and it’s going to end up with parts of Robot scattered around the fucking city, like a goddamn nightmare. He’s grabbing a cig and lighting it up, as he thinks about the messages, and in particular the very first one.

‘Can you find him before we dismantle him? :)’

When he finds Robot he’s going to kill whoever the fuck is holding him with his bare hands. Rip them to shreds and eat their hearts. And then him and Robot? They’re going to go on a vacation for a long time. He’s thinkin’ about Vegas, maybe. 

His phone buzzes from where he’s thrown it, and he’s quick to grab it, looking at the message.

‘found a trail’ - T

They met up at Sandy garage, T sitting on top of the gas station, and dangling his feet down.

“What’s the trail.” Randy asks, taking a seat next to T.

“You look like shit Randy.” T takes a drag from his cigarette. 

“Thanks, you look like shit as well. What’s the trail?” His fingers prattle on his leg, itching to do something, anything.

“I was thinking back, a few hours before you got that message. I was thinking if I saw any rumpos out about that time frame, and I thought I hadn’t but, like...I remembered. I did see a rumpo out, but I thought it was just a coincidence. But now I’m not too sure.”

“You know the owner of it? The color?”

“Zo. It’s Zofie’s rumpo. The only one that was about that day, I’m pretty sure.”

“Zofie? I thought she wasn’t in any gang.”

“No, she’s in the Forgotten.”

“Oh yeah, those fuckin- wait. Wait. Are you fucking kidding me?” Randy hands go still.

“Nope. The Forgotten probably took Robot. I think...I think I was talking to Zofie while she was holding a gun to him and didn’t even realize.” T takes another drag of his cigarette.

“What the fuck do you mean?” Randy’s got his phone out and typing a mile a minute to literally everyone in his contacts to tell him if they see any of the Forgotten.

“Saw her here with the rumpo. She wasn’t getting out of it, and it looked like she was leaning over a bit more than someone usually does. Said she was going to do something she regretted. I was too tired to understand. Didn’t check at what she was doing at all. I feel sick, Randy.” T snubs out his cigarette on the side of the gas station, closing his eyes.

“You didn’t know, no need to beat yourself up over it brochacho. Anyway, half the city are now on the lookout for them. You’re not attached or anything to Zofie, right?”

“Not after this.”

“Epic. I’m going to rip her heart out and eat it when I find her.”

On the fourth day Robot sacrifices some of his senses in order to be able to continue functioning. 

He can’t smell, feel, or speak, but he’s still online. He can still see, grab, and hear. He can even see in color still, which is pretty nice. He doesn’t have much to do except to categorize all the colors of darkness he can see from where he’s sitting.

“Hello, Randy Smith, if this isn’t about Robot then fuck off.” Randy answers his phone, tapping his fingers on his steering wheel.

“Randy! Good news, got Dan Dan back in the city and we’re going to let him sniff around Robot Retail. Might be able to catch a scent.” Fingle’s been pissed ever since someone took Robot and a ball of rage contained in that old man has never been a good sign. Randy would know from experience.

“Who the fuck is Dan Dan?”

“He’s like a dog but from the ocean. Look, don’t worry about it. He’ll get Robot’s scent, and well, if he can’t then he’s just an extra gunman.”

“Alright. If he gets a scent ping me, I guess.” Randy hangs up first. He’s not in the mood to make jokes or play along with Fingle Dan today. Hasn’t been in the mood since Robot’s been taken.

On the sixth day he sacrifices everything besides his eyes and his left hand.

It’s been almost a week since Zofie first kidnapped Robot, and he looks horrible. So horrible that Zofie doesn’t even like to look at him, just taking a picture, and sending a message to Randy. The feeling of sickness still hasn’t left her, and, god, she wishes this never happened. Wishes someone had been at Robot Retail, wishes T had seen Robot cowering on the floor and done something. She wishes for a lot of things at this point.

“Unit R03-0113 shutting down. Be sure to fully charged this unit before powering back on to reduce risk of errors. Thank you, biiiitch.”

After the message, the room is completely silent. The hum of gears and other miscellaneous tech is absent. It’s...it’s…

It’s unsettling.

Zofie feels like she’s about to puke, seeing Robot’s body just flat on the ground, and hearing nothing at all. It’s like looking at a dead body.

She doesn’t stay in the room any longer, walking past PJ, and out of the building. She grips onto the doorway once she’s finally in fresh air, breathing heavily, and tears threatening to pour from her eyes. She takes deep breaths, trying to center herself as well as she can.

That’s when she spots T, smoking a cigarette on his motorcycle, and making direct eye contact with her. And she knows, immediately, that if she isn’t out of the area, and most likely the city as well, within the next ten minutes, she’s going to wind up dead.

No man is worth losing her life over.

“PJ’s still in there. Zofie ran a few minutes ago, sadly. I didn’t want to give chase in case she was a distraction. Sorry.” T taps his fingers on the handles of his motorcycle, avoiding eye contact with Randy.  
“Doesn’t matter, we got PJ at least. Keep scouting around the area, make sure Zofie or none of PJ’s lackeys interrupt us. Good job on finding them, T.” Randy lights a cigarette but he doesn’t smoke it, just letting it burn between his fingers.

“Alright. If you need any help just text me, I guess.” And he’s gone, taking off on his motorcycle, just a second before The Bitches arrived.

If Robot was solely a Hive member, Randy wouldn’t have called them in at all, but, fuck, they’re his gang so he had to. He just hopes they don’t let PJ get away, which he’s sure they won’t.

“Where are they? Where’s the BITCHES who took OUR Robot?” Dan Dan shouts, crawling out the window of the Fingle Sedan before it’s even parked.

“Yeah, where are they, Randy?” Fingle shouts as well, the Fingle Sedan stopping right before hitting Randy.

“Inside is one of them, the other one got away. I got T out scouting the area in case she comes back.” Randy dashes some of the ashes off the cigarette. “Robot should be inside as well. Where’s Jerry and Ken?”

“We got in a police chase before getting here and they jumped out so we wouldn’t be late. They’ll either be here in a few minutes or they got busted.” Fingle scratches his chin, as he walks to the door.

“Thankfully it’s just one fuckin’ dumbass.” Randy takes a quick drag from his cigarette before entering the building, Fingle Dan and Dan Dan right behind him, and none of them quiet at all.

They find PJ trying, and failing, to pull some boards off the backdoor. Dan Dan is quick to grab him, throwing him to the ground, and immediately spitting on his face.

“Wha-” PJ tries to say, but immediately is greeted by a kick to his stomach from Fingle Dan.

“Fuck you!” Fingle shouts, kicking PJ again.

Randy squats beside PJ’s head, and smoothly puts his cigarette out on PJ’s cheek. “Hey bitch, where’s Robot?”

PJ goes to respond, but instead he screams as he feels Dan Dan’s teeth sinking into his leg. 

His screams are like someone blasting Death Grips at Randy and he couldn’t be happier except if Robot was never kidnapped.

“Where’s Robot, PJ?” Randy askes, grabbing onto PJ’s ear and twisting it.

“He- He- He’s behi-behind the- FUCK- the bookcase!” PJ stutters out, receiving more kicks to his stomach from Fingle and another bite from Dan Dan.

“Hey fellas, hope we’re not too late.” Ken Tucky enters the building, cracking his knuckles, and grinning from ear to ear.

“Just in time, baby!” Dan Dan screams, before taking another bite out of PJ’s leg, this time tearing through his denim jeans.

“Awesome. We didn’t want to miss too much of the entertainment.” Jerry pats his bat in his hand, staring down at PJ.

And then the Bitches beat the shit out of PJ. Randy’s not sure if they beat him to death, though he wouldn’t be upset if they did, but he hopes they didn’t, for Robot’s sake.

Randy throws the bookcase that was blockading Robot in to the side, and quickly making his way into the room. More importantly, he’s making his way to Robot.

“Hey Robot.” He whispers, squatting down near him, and shaking his shoulder. “Wake up sleepy bot, I’m here now.”

But Robot doesn’t wake up.

In fact, Randy can’t hear anything inside Robot moving or humming, and he’s starting to feel a little bit fucking terrified. Robot isn’t silent, he’s not a fucking electric car, he’s Robot! 

He’s...he’s okay, yeah? Randy’s got him. They’ve saved him. PJ’s screams are more quiet now, just the sound of flesh being hit in the other room with the occasional spitting. Zofie’s gone, who the fuck knows where. And he’s got Robot in his arms.

“Come on, wake up Robot.” He shakes Robot again, pokes his face, and even slaps it a bit. Not hard, just a few wake up slaps. He places a few kisses on Robot’s face and head, knowing that Robot would always do so to try and help him.

Robot doesn’t wake up.

They were too late. Randy pulls Robot further into him, tears spilling from his eyes, as he buries his face into Robot’s quiet chest.

“Robot...Robot...please...wake up.” He cries, his hands shaking, but strong on Robot’s back.

“Oh my fucking god.” Fingle Dan stands at the doorway. “Are you crying Randy?”

“Not the time, Fingle.” Randy responds, not lifting his head from Robot’s chest.

“No need to cry, sheesh. He’s fine. Probably in sleep mode or something. Robot, power on.”

No sound comes from Robot. No confirmation message or anything. Not even an error sound.

“R-robot. Activation code sixty-nine.” 

Nothing.

“Robot, turn on!” Fingle moves closer to them, and his hands are shaking just a tad bit.

No reply from Robot, however.

“Oh my god. Those sick bastards.” Fingle gets down to his knees in front of Randy and Robot. He knocks on Robot’s head for a few seconds before turning his head so he could easily see the back of it. He taps around the back for a good three minutes. “They...they ran his power out. What the fuck. Did they disconnect some of his processors as well? What the shit.”

“He just needs to get some fuel, right? And then he’s fine, right?” Randy asks, his grip tightening and loosening on Robot’s back.

“Uhh...I can’t uh, remember. Maybe?” Fingle gets back onto his feet, turning his back on them, and scratching his head.

“What do you mean, maybe?” 

“I’ve never seen his batteries drain fully, so I don’t know! Maybe he’ll be fine, maybe he won’t!” 

Randy stands to his feet, taking Robot with him. 

“Then we just gotta find out, right?”

In the end, it’s not quite that easy. 

For one, there’s no real easy way for them to give Robot fuel, and pouring gasoline into his mouth just ends up with a mess as there’s no way for Robot to process it.

They can’t really do any other fuels either, because they can’t be processed without Robot at least being in sleep mode. And Robot’s charging cord had been lost years ago during one of Fingle’s coked-out rages.

So, the only fuel source they can reliably give to Robot is solar. And fuck, does it take forever. It takes at least five hours of straight sunlight for a screen to even start showing on the back of Robot’s head, and it’s just a simple battery display.

“How long do you think it’ll be until he’s fully charged?” Randy asks, shoving his hands into his pockets.

He’s currently sitting in the passenger seat of the Fingle Sedan, while the rest of the Bitches are in the back, with Robot’s body sprawled over their knees. Randy had tried to have Robot in his lap, but the other three had taken him from him the moment they were able to. 

Currently Ken is painting Robot’s fingernails, Dan Dan is playing on his phone (They got 9gag now!?!), and Jerry is poking at Robot’s face while looking out the window.

“Ehh....Fuck if I know.” Fingle swerves a bit, making sure he knocks into a local’s car.

“Will he...y’know...still remember everything and everyone?”

“Uhh...sure. Yeah. As long as you don’t like, boot him up till he’s at one-hundred percent, otherwise he might get stuck in a crash loop, or something like that.”

“Can do. Hey, can you drop us off at my house? Just to the right there.”

It’s been a struggle, adapting to his new lifestyle, but Randy wouldn’t give it up for anything.

He spends most of his time moving Robot from various spots around the Hive Dive so he gets maximum sunlight, and inside his own house when it starts to rain. Don’t want him to rust, afterall. In between moving Robot, he either talks with Robot’s body just about anything and everything, while other times he’s reading through various lawyer textbooks.

Today is the tenth day since Robot was rescued. The tenth day of making sure Robot had optimal sunlight and was safe. The tenth day of not leaving Robot’s side.

He’s rambling on about a story from his home planet when it happens. A soft hum as gears begin to turn, and the familiar Windows Vista power on sound. The quiet sound of metal moving. A hand touching his arm.

“Hey Randy.” 

And Randy is gone, tears filling his eyes, as he turns as quick as he can to pull Robot into a hug.

“Robot! Robot Robot Robot Robot Robot!!!” He cries, shoving his face into Robot’s chest, the widest smile on his face.

“Randy!” Robot giggles, rubbing Randy’s back, and petting his head. “What’s wrong?”

“You’re back. You’re online! You’re...you’re alive.” Randy sobs, looking up at Robot.

“Did something happen?” Robot tilts his head, his eyebrows shifting into a furrowed position.

“You...you don’t remember?”

“Remember what?” Robot smiles, rubbing a finger over Randy’s smile.

“It...it’s not important. Not important at all, baby.” Randy doesn’t sound sure at all, his smile faltering a bit.

But Robot won’t push. He doesn’t like seeing Randy crying, and he doesn’t want him to get upset. So, for now, he won’t push. Won’t say anything else. Just smile and hug Randy back with all the force he can apply.

Besides, he doesn’t want to think about the last memory of his. Doesn’t like the harsh contrast of different shades of grey and concrete floor. He rather enjoy the moment, the sun beating harshly down at him, wrapped in the arms of a crying Randy- a happy crying Randy that is!-, and the feeling of being loved and loving in return surrounding him.


End file.
